Niall's Bride: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate Book 4) Page 14

  “What happened tae my dutiful Caitria? The moment ye learned he was an imposter, ye should have told me.”

  “I didnae because I believe him. Because I love him,” she cried out on a sob, still trying to fruitlessly free herself from Ferghas’s grip. “We only wanted tae bring ye more proof—"

  “Of which ye have none, because ’tis all lies!” Ferghas snarled.

  His words seemed to convince Drostan, whose face darkened.

  “Put my daughter in her chamber—under guard,” he snapped, turning away from her, and Ferghas dragged her out of the hall as she continued to writhe and struggle in protest.

  As Ferghas dragged her out of the hall and up to her chamber, his lips lowered to her ear.

  “I’m going tae get yer Father’s permission tae wed ye—and soon. And then I’ll beat the obedience back in tae ye, and remove the taint that imposter has put on the body that should have only belonged tae me.”

  Fury and revulsion coiled through her, and she spat on his face. Ferghas stilled, rage contorting his handsome features, and he slapped her. Caitria cried out in pain as he brought his face very close to hers.

  “Listen tae me, ye spoiled little whore,” he hissed. “I willnae have a defiant wife. Ye willnae speak tae me in such a way again, or I’ll cut yer tongue out.”

  “I’ll never marry ye,” Caitria vowed fiercely, glowering at him, her chest heaving. “Ye’ll die for what ye’ve done. I’ll make certain of it.”

  Ferghas’s face tightened with fury once more, and she was certain that he would strike her again. She ached for her dagger, which was hidden in her chamber. She wanted to sink it into this monster’s chest.

  Ferghas gritted his teeth and continued dragging her toward her chamber, where he hurled her inside, slamming the door behind her.

  Caitria clutched her stinging cheek, reeling with rage and grief.

  “Niall,” she whispered, sinking to the floor, despair winding its way through her chest. Had he gone for good? Had he returned to his own time?

  ’Tis best if he has, she told herself. If he tries tae come back for ye, Ferghas will make certain that he’s killed.

  She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face at the memory of Niall’s final words to her. I love you.

  I love ye as well, she silently railed. I want tae be yers, yer bride in truth.

  She didn’t know how long she lay on the floor, tears coursing down her cheeks, her body racking with silent sobs, but at some point the door opened.

  She opened her eyes as Liusaidh knelt down by her side, her expression tight with worry.

  “Oh, my Caitria,” her mother murmured. She reached down to help her stand, leading her to the bed. She gestured to a tray of food on the side table that she’d brought with her. “Ye need tae eat, child.”

  Caitria didn’t respond, closing her eyes. She needed to get to Niall, to find him if he was still in this time. But how would she find him? Where would he have gone?

  “’Tis awful what that imposter has done tae ye,” her mother was saying, brushing her hair back from her face. “Using yer innocence and naivety against ye. Playing us all for fools.”

  “I’m not innocent,” Caitria snapped, glaring at her mother. “I love him, and I was aware that he wasnae Artair—I think I was aware from the night of the betrothal feast.”

  “Oh, my bairn. Of course ye think ye love him—"

  “I’m not a bairn!” Caitria cried, crawling out of bed, facing her mother with hot defiance. “I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions about who I love! And just because my brother died doesnae give ye an excuse tae treat me like I’m still a bairn!”

  The sympathy vanished from Liusaidh’s face, replaced by anger.

  “Ye’re upset. Ye doonae ken what ye’re—”

  “I ken I’m capable of more than just running a household and being a wife. I’ve only done what ye and Father wanted, because I love ye both and I miss Tadhg as well. But I will make my own decisions from now on—I willnae end up like ye! Even if—even if it means no longer bearing the MacGreghor name.”

  Caitria faced her mother, breathless, her heart hammering with determination. Her mother’s face went white, the anger replaced by hurt, and then another look she couldn’t identify.

  Say something, Caitria silently pleaded. Tell me that ye understand. Tell me that for once, ye’ve listened tae me.

  But her mother’s expression went carefully blank, and she stood.

  “Yer father was right tae put ye under guard. Now that the imposter is gone, perhaps ye will return tae being my dutiful and obedient Caitria.”

  Her heart splintered in her chest at her mother’s words. Liusaidh turned and left her chamber without a word.

  Caitria expelled a sharp breath, swallowing hard. Her outburst had propelled her out of the grief-stricken stupor she’d languished in. She moved to the window, looking out. Dusk had fallen; it would do no good to travel in the dark.

  But she knew what she had to do. If Niall was still in this time, she was going to find him. And they would return to take Ferghas down and expose him for the monster he was.

  She forced herself to eat the food her mother had brought, knowing she would need her strength. When she poked her head out of her chamber to find an unfamiliar guard standing there, she asked him if Hendry could stand guard tomorrow. The guard looked surprised at her acquiescence and gave her a nod.

  Caitria barely slept that night, and when she did, images of Niall filled her dreams.

  She awoke just before dawn, changing into a simple gown she wore for riding, taking care to slide her dagger into her bodice. She knew that Hendry would help her—he was loyal to her, and despite Niall’s deception, he liked him. Together they could try to discern where Niall had gone—but she needed to get out of this castle. Taking a deep breath, she went to the door and swung it open.

  Hendry stood there, but he wasn’t alone. Her mother stood next to him, taking in her traveling clothes with wide eyes.

  No, Caitria thought desperately, defeat rising in her chest, but what her mother did next took her by surprise.

  “Go now, before the rest of the castle wakes,” Liusaidh whispered. “I’ve spoken tae Latharn and Hendry; they ken where Niall is and will travel with ye.”

  Astonishment rendered Caitria still. She just looked at her mother, dumbfounded.

  “Ye were right,” Liusaidh said, guilt flickering across her face. “I thought about what ye said—truly thought about it. Our grief has sheltered ye—imprisoned ye. And all this time . . . ye’ve been such a strong and brave lass,” her mother continued, her voice breaking. “Go after Niall. We’ll figure out the rest when ye return.”

  Caitria threw her arms around her mother, tears of relief streaming down her face.

  “Thank ye,” she whispered.

  “Go,” her mother said, stepping back with a shaky smile. “Go get the man ye love.”

  Chapter 24

  Niall watched his father in a daze as he tossed several logs into the fireplace, leaning down to warm his hands.

  “Starting fires hasn’t changed much over the centuries,” Ian observed, giving him an amused grin.

  Niall just stared. To stand in the presence of his father, who’d died years ago, filled him with a tumult of shock, disbelief and remnant grief. How was this possible?

  He looked around the main room of the cottage his father had taken him to. Ian had told him it belonged to a distant relative whose family owned it for generations; he and other time-traveling relatives used it during their travels in this region and time period. Niall had no idea such a place existed; he would have come here had he known.

  “I imagine,” Ian said, straightening and giving him a long look, “that you have many questions.”

  Niall swallowed as he studied him. His father looked to be in his early forties, which meant he would live for another decade. A wave of grief swept over him, and it was suddenly hard to stand.

  H
is father crossed the room in three long strides, wrapping his arms around him as Niall broke down and wept. Niall wept for the future loss of his father, and for Caitria and the danger she was in—danger he’d failed to avert.

  When he calmed, his father led him to a chair, taking the chair opposite him.

  “How?” Niall whispered, when he could finally speak. “How are you here? Why?”

  “I’m here because of the same thing that I suspect brought you here,” Ian replied. “Dreams.”

  “Dreams?”

  “I kept having dreams about you in this time period, dashing away from a castle on a horse—in desperate need of my help. Now, I certainly couldn’t ask the Niall of present day about it—the Niall of present day hates time travel. So I did the only thing I could do. I came back here—and I waited.”

  “How long have you been waiting?”

  “About a month or so,” Ian said. “I guessed the time period by certain aspects of the dream. But I admit—I was starting to fear you’d never show up, and I was in the wrong time.”

  Niall froze, recalling the strange figure he’d seen watching him from the edge of the castle grounds days ago. He’d assumed it was the “intruder” Ferghas had hired.

  “You came to the castle,” Niall said slowly. “You were the one who was watching me.”

  “Yes. I wanted to see if you were there—but I wanted you to find me on your own, when you needed my help. I know there’s a lot you want to talk to me about—but by the looks of you when I caught up to you, I assume you do need my help?”

  Niall nodded, his shock over seeing his father melting away as he thought of Caitria.

  Ian listened intently as Niall told him . . . everything. From the dreams he’d had about Caitria, to his entry to the castle and everyone assuming he was Artair, to his and Caitria's attempts to gain proof of Ferghas's misdeeds, to his discovery as an imposter.

  “And now . . . Ferghas has her in his clutches. Her father’s going to make her marry that monster, I’m certain of it—and my coming here to rescue her has all been for naught.”

  “You love this woman.”

  Ian’s words were a statement, not a question.

  “Yes,” Niall said, his voice wavering with emotion. He loved Caitria with every fiber of his being and would do anything to keep her safe.

  “Well, then,” Ian said. “Let’s put some food in you—and get you some rest—then we’ll put a plan together to rescue the woman you love.”

  It was surreal to share a meal with his father. But that was what he was doing, eating a meal of bread and vegetable stew, trying not to stare too much as his father spoke.

  “That servant you had helping you—Latharn? I approached him days ago when he left the castle grounds and told him where to find me if you ever needed help. I have a feeling he’ll show up soon,” Ian said calmly, taking a bite out of his bread.

  “I doubt it,” Niall said. “I’ve been outed as an imposter. Latharn probably despises me.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” Ian returned, giving him a small smile.

  Niall studied him, wondering how he could be so certain.

  “Artair Dalaigh,” Niall said finally. “He’s clearly kin; I look just like him. Do you know of him? Where he is?”

  “No,” Ian said. “I suspect that he’s now in our time—and even if that's so, it’s not our concern. There was a similar incident years ago—your cousin Regina went back in time and was mistaken for a relative she resembled. That relative took her place in the present.”

  “What happened?”

  “A stiuireadh resolved it,” Ian said. “They both returned to their prospective times—with wild stories, I’m sure—but in one piece. I wouldn’t worry about Artair Dalaigh—I’m sure a stiuireadh is handling it as we speak.”

  Niall stared at his father, his heart plummeting in his chest. Did that mean a stiuireadh would return him to his own time?

  His father read his thoughts, setting down his bread and leaning back in his chair.

  “You want to stay in this time, don’t you?”

  “I have no choice. My place is with Caitria.”

  There was no uncertainty in his tone, and it surprised him at how good it felt to say the words aloud. He couldn’t leave Caitria behind; she was the woman he loved, the beacon that had pulled him back through time to her side. Perhaps his fate was sealed the moment he stepped into the great hall and his eyes locked with hers; fate coming full circle to forever bind him to the woman he loved.

  Ian smiled. He stood and clamped his hand on Niall’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry. A stiuireadh won’t force you to leave if you choose to stay in this time. It’s getting late,” he said, looking out the window at the darkening sky. “You should get some rest. I suspect Latharn will get here tomorrow—hopefully with a reinforcement or two to help us.”

  Niall knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, considering that his father, someone he never thought he’d see again, was only a room away—and Caitria was still trapped in the castle with Ferghas. It took great effort to calm the maelstrom of his thoughts and focus on his anchor, his Caitria, and how they could get her away from Ferghas.

  When the pounding of horse hooves approached the cottage just after dawn, he was still drifting in and out of sleep. He jerked upright at the sound, reaching for his dagger.

  He stumbled out of his bedroom and hurried to the main room of the cottage, where his father was opening the door.

  “Dad, be careful,” Niall warned.

  “Right on time,” Ian said, by way of reply, his lips curving in a smile.

  Niall reached his father’s side by the open door, watching in astonishment as Latharn and Hendry dismounted and approached . . . with Caitria.

  Shock spiraled through him at the sight of her. Caitria raced to him, throwing her arms around him as he enveloped her in his arms.

  “What are you doing here?” he breathed.

  “My mother,” Caitria said, shaking her head in amazement. “She helped me flee. Hendry and I found Latharn in the stables . . . he knew where tae find ye.”

  “I may have had something to do with that,” Ian said from behind them.

  Caitria stilled as she looked past Niall at his father, and he could see her taking in their obvious resemblance.

  “Niall,” she whispered. “Who . . .?”

  “Caitria,” he said, turning back to give his father a wan smile. “Meet my father . . . Ian O’Kean.”

  Months ago, if someone had told Niall that he would one day be seated in a medieval cottage in the Scottish Highlands in the year 1390 with the woman he was dreaming about, his father, and two fourteenth-century Highlanders, putting together a plan to ambush a Highland noble—he would have told that person they were mad.

  But that’s exactly what was happening. It surprised Niall that Latharn and Hendry weren’t furious with him and were helping him at all—but they told him they both loathed Ferghas and believed he’d killed Caitria's brother and Muir—and they were now well aware what he’d done to the castle maids. They wanted Ferghas punished for his crimes.

  “Even though ye’re not Artair, I can tell ye’re a good man and ye care for Lady Caitria,” Hendry had said gruffly, clamping him on the shoulder. “Her mother wouldnae have sent her daughter tae ye if that wasnae true."

  His father had told Latharn and Hendry a portion of the truth—that he was Niall’s father who’d ventured here from Edinburgh to see his son. Ian wisely didn't mention that they were time travelers—their ability was not something they should share freely with those from the past, given the rampant superstition of the time. But Ian had given Niall and Caitria a long look when he told the men his story—aware that Caitria knew they were both travelers. Caitria caught on quickly, giving him a conspiratorial nod.

  They’d come up with a simple plan—but if it went wrong, it could backfire terribly.

  “Are we decided, then?” his father asked, after they’d go
ne over their plan a final time, holding everyone’s gaze. “We travel to the castle right before dawn tomorrow.”

  They all nodded their agreement.

  Ian grinned, standing up with a friendly smile.

  “There’s food in the kitchen, and a spare room for the men.”

  Caitria seemed to sense that he wanted to spend some alone time with his father and gave Niall a soft kiss before trailing after Hendry and Latharn.

  “I can tell by the way you look at her—how your eyes light up around her—how much she means to you,” Ian said, when they were alone. “It’s the way I felt about your mother. She was the love of my life, and when she died . . . I retreated into myself. That’s why I wasn't a good father to you.”

  “Dad—” Niall began, but Ian held up his hand.

  “No,” he said. “It’s true. I know I was distant—but never doubt how much I love you, son. You’re as much a love of my life as your mother was. I want you to know that. I knew coming to this time and helping you was one way I could show you.”

  Niall’s chest filled with emotion as his father studied him, his eyes shimmering with tears. He wanted to warn his father about the future, to not take anymore trips, of the fatal toll it would eventually take on his health.

  “Dad,” he began, his throat dry. “You need to—”

  But his father knew him too well, seeming to know what he was about to say.

  “I don’t need to know what the future holds, son,” he said. “At the moment, I’m glad I’m here in the past, with you.”

  Warmth washed over Niall at his father's words, and he stepped forward to give him a long embrace before leaving to find Caitria. He found her in his guest bedroom.

  “How are ye?” she asked, turning to face him. “I ken it must be difficult tae see yer father.”

  “It is,” he admitted. “But I’m glad we have this brief time together. I only wish we’d savored the time we did have.”

  “I can tell how much he loves ye,” she murmured. “I’m glad I got tae meet him.”

  “Me too,” he agreed. “Caitria,” he continued, swallowing hard, but this needed to be said. “If the plan fails tomorrow and I’m captured, I want you to get away. Latharn and Hendry will help—”